The Two Faces of Michael Ross
by RantWaitingToHappen
Summary: Mike Ross isn't who everyone thinks he is, there is a dark side to him and when Harvey realizes how twisted the real Mike is, he finds himself treading among fright and odd arousal. SLASH. Bottom!Harvey Bad-ass!Mike. R&R Please! Thanks.
1. Chapter 1

I know I've been gone for several months and I know I have stories pending and I know I said I wouldn't start a new one 'till I finished the ones I have in waiting, but I CAN'T STOP! I'm sorry! I do promise that I have NOT given up on any of my other fics, however, I just really really like writing and Suits and it's impossible for me NOT to start a new story every couple of hours... It's like a disease. One of the H/C slash varieties.

Don't own Suits; warning, this contains violence and cursing and bad-ass Mike, AU, but only character wise...they're all still sexy lawyers.

**One. **

Most days, it was preposterously easy to keep it up.

His cover, that is.

Naïve and kind-hearted—words often used to describe him as of late.

Every now and then, though, it was almost as if people were just _asking_ for it…

Mike shook his head; enough of that, he wasn't in the streets anymore. He worked for a prestigious law firm now. He was Harvey Specters' dutiful associate. The only thing right now reminding him of that was the ridiculous stack of papers piling up on his desk. Mike grimaced. Every time he'd managed to make a sizable dent Harvey or Louis would stroll by and add to the avalanche—the young associate was starting to get suspicious and form sinister conspiracy theories in his head about the probability of those two having set aside their differences for the sheer fun of torturing him.

Harold came over to his bullpen, completely disregarding the mountain of work on his desk, and started ranting very animatedly about the tattoo he'd gathered the courage to get during the weekend with the mini bonus Louis had handed him for getting rid of a particularly violent ex-girlfriend last week.

Mike couldn't help but roll his eyes in distaste—albeit discretely. Spending money on something so frivolous—Jesus, he could remember off the bat the countless times he'd nearly starved growing up, because he didn't have enough pocket change for a measly piece of bread at the Spanish Paneria on the corner of Grove. It was hard to fathom a lot of the time that people actually went off and bought all these superfluous things knowing kids not two neighborhoods away, were eating scraps out of garbage cans in the ghetto to survive.

"Hey, are you listening? It cost one-fifty to get the outlining; the guy said to let it heal over the week and to come back and get the color done next Saturday. I felt so bad-ass going over there. The guy who did my ink had a dragon on the side of his _face_, can you believe that? If I weren't a lawyer I'd have gotten that too, you know. But yeah, back to my tattoo, I actually—"

Mike easily tuned Harold out, focusing instead on the paperwork he had to get through if he wanted a chance to sneak out for a hotdog and a can of coke during his lunch break.

"Mister Ross, if perhaps you could stop distracting my associate from doing his job," this was Harolds' cue to go running for the hills. "I would appreciate that a lot, seeing as how you still haven't finished the paperwork I gave you this morning." Louis was a complete snob, and Mike abhorred having to deal with him on a regular basis. The man could turn a nun to sin given enough time.

Contrary to popular belief, Mike was not a people-person. He didn't particularly care what others did outside of work, so long as they didn't bother him about it. Louis was constantly trying to brag about his sexual conquests to Mike and anyone who feared him enough to stick around and listen to the nasty details. Mike was glad Harvey wasn't like that, didn't feel the need to share his personal life with his employees.

Two gruesome, tedious hours later Mike hung his worn bag over a weary shoulder and set off to lunch.

* * *

><p>Harvey was starving. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been hanging out with his associate a little too much lately, but the thought <em>'I could really go for a hotdog right about now…'<em> popped into his head, on his way out of the office.

Mike was such a predictable kid. A constant need for approval, all that puppy-dog enthusiasm for the job, and that ridiculous naivety only a child would hang onto. Yep, Harvey had his ditzy associate pegged, all figured out. Too friendly, too trusting—he was the boy from Suburbia who stopped on his way to school to say hi to the old folks next door, the boy in school who would try to reason with the class bully. All that sweet garbage. How dull.

Harvey devoured his chili-dog on the move, a bottle of Pepsi in the other hand; he wondered momentarily how he must look to others around him. Sharply dressed, hair combed back to perfection, stuffing his face with something so uncouth—then again, Harvey thought, Mike was right, you weren't a real New Yorker 'till you ate one of these on the run.

_Speaking of Mike, _Harvey thought, _where the hell is the kid? _If he was right, he'd only left a few minutes after Mike, for his lunch break, and on most days, they had pretty much the same schedule, unless a case was present.

* * *

><p>"Big-shot lawyer over here's kinda' clumsy, dontcha' think, Ron? Spilling his lunch all over his fancy ass suit." A tall, broad shouldered hooligan sneered, as he smeared ketchup and mustard on Mikes' white dress shirt.<p>

"Hey Al, how'd you know this Suit's a lawyer type?" Ron questioned in a taunting voice. He, Al, and another man the size of a pro wrestler on steroids, cornered Mike.

"Saw the little prick comin' outta' that firm a few minutes ago." Al responded, coming forward, a nasty smirk on his face.

* * *

><p>Harvey was just finishing up his drink when he spotted a familiar blonde head among the crowds of people, surrounded by what looked to be three menacing football quarterbacks…<p>

"God damnit kid." He growled under his breath. There were so many things wrong with that scenario. The first being it was broad daylight. The second being, how in the hell did they manage to shove Mike into that alleyway? The third being that Harvey was starting to think he needed to sit his associate down after this was over and explain to him that no matter how much candy was offered, you were never supposed to follow strangers…

Had he not been looking, Harvey probably wouldn't have even spotted the kid in the first place. As far as he could see, there were only three guys. Yeah, they were pretty huge, but Harvey was pretty sure with just a threat to call the police from an authoritative voice, the three hoodlums would be scurrying off before he could even count to three. With that, Harvey took out his cell phone and started making his way across the street, and toward the secluded alleyway.

* * *

><p>"Just take what you want and leave me alone." Mike didn't need this. His lunch break was over in a few and if either Harvey or Louis walked by his desk and found that he wasn't there, he could already imagine the earful he'd be on the receiving end of. He wanted to make this situation as painless and quickly as possible—like ripping off a Band-Aid.<p>

Al got a dark look on his face, "Trying to act tough, you little fuck?" he cracked his knuckles and took a step forward.

The largest of the three grinned and followed the leaders' flow, while Ron, the smallest of the three, but still a few inches above Mike, and at least fifty pounds heavier, took out a pocket knife.

* * *

><p>Harvey underestimated just how crowded it was between where he'd been standing and that tiny alleyway on the other side of the street. It wasn't like he was worried for the kid all that much. In fact, the blonde dunce deserved a couple of well-aimed blows. "Would serve him right for getting himself into such a cliché situation." He muttered under his breathe, as finally, he managed to pass the flock of people.<p>

"Holy fuck!"

Harvey was more than a little shocked to have two of the men he'd seen from a distance shove past him in a frenzied scurry, panting like mad, and disappear into the crowd behind him. "What the hell…" now with caution, the senior partner slowly approached the abandoned alleyway. But in a million years, Harvey wouldn't have been prepared for what he set his eyes on next.

Back turned to him, Mike stood in the lone path, hovering over someone. Harveys first thought _was 'Oh, he's okay, thank God; I should grab his skinny-tie wearing butt and get him out of here before something _does_ happen to the kid.'_ But for some reason, his legs weren't cooperating with his mind, and he stood stock still, knowing Mike still wasn't aware of his presence.

The man underneath him, sprawled across the dirty pavement, whimpered. "P-please, oh God, please don't kill me. I'm sorry, so sorry, please."

This man, this incredibly tall man with muscles on his muscles, gang tattoos splattered over his body, like some rigid canvas, this man who looked like he could go a few rounds with the Hulk, was scrambling on the floor crying. Harvey couldn't wrap his head around this image at all.

Mike crouched down very slowly, tilted his head, and Harvey saw it. A twisted grin, accompanied by the dead, calculating eyes of a snake.

Fear took hold of the attorney at the sight. Fear and Harvey had never really been introduced to one another until this very moment. "….M-Mike…" the name got caught in his throat.

And in that instant, this stranger was gone, and the Michael Ross who had stumbled into his office a few months ago and spilled his guts out to him, was back. Mike stood up, took hold of the frightened mans arm, and pulled him up with unnatural ease. He patted the large mans' shoulder very lightly. "You can go now…"

Not hesitating even a millisecond, the man fled, as the others in his group had been fortunate enough to do not ten minutes ago.

Mike frowned at his stained suit. Blood and food condiments sullied the front of his shirt. "Pretend this didn't happen." He said, in a very off-handed manner, as he walked past a stunned Harvey.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N. New laptop, haven't installed Microsoft Word yet, my spelling is awful, I'm sorry about that, I'll fix it as soon as I do install Word, which corrects all my terrible spelling, promise. But I do hope you guys enjoy it none the less.

ALSO! This is actually a prompt I'm filling for Ellen Grieves :D Here's the link, on LJ, check it out. http : / / suits- meme . live journal . com ?thread=1740#t1740 take out the spaces in between, you know the drill.

WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT

**Two.**

"Look Harvey, I've known you for three years-three years more than I'd like to, as a matter of fact-and I know you, you make damn good calls. But when you hired Michael Ross, you made a huge mistake, man. That kid is a psychopath, I tell ya'."

Harvey shook his head, "Finn, what the hell are you talking about? Mike is anything but." he denied automatically.

"Easy for you to say; haven't been trailing the kid for two weeks." the private detective huffed. "Ross is bad news, Harvey." he reached for his suit case and handed over a manilla folder. "Admittedly, the first week I was starting to think that you must be paranoid, 'cause the kid was a saint. Visited his sick elderly grandmother at the care center practically everyday, right after a long day at work he went straight home to look over _more _work, said 'Good morning' to his neighbors on his way out, real nice, real pleasant. Sunday comes and what does he do?

"He pick pocketed some poor schmuck for his keys and just all casual-like got into the guys car and sped off!" Finn shook his head. "I took off after him in my buggy and end up at this turf, right? Look at the photographs, Harvey."

Harvey was as afraid as he was curious to open the folder. After a pregnant pause, he flipped it open and back at him stared a blown up photograph. Mike and some other guy were standing face to face on the deserted pier. The next photo showed the two trading suitcases.

It was like a flip book. With every image the scene became more and more clear. The man in the black hoody stood to his full height in the third photo, opened the suitcase, and although the picture was blurred from so far away, the white content inside was all too obvious. The next image was of Mike checking the metal suitcase he'd been handed. Green wads of cash lay inside.

"Gets worse." Finn stated, looking grim.

Harvey turned to the next photo. Mike was captured beating the living crap out of this mystery man in the next five photos. "Jesus." he uttered.

"Afterward he took the damn drugs _and _the money and just up and left, wouldn't you know it." Finn continued. "So I decided to look into his past a little more. I had a couple of old friends in the F.B.I. look into him for me. Know what they came up with?"

Harvey looked at him expectantly.

"Squat." the investigator spit out, practically. "The name Michael Ross is a ghost on our radar."

"That's a good thing, that means he's got no prior criminal record." Harvey came to Mikes defence.

"That's what I thought too. But what I actually found out is that Michael Ross doesn't actually exist. Not even a birth legit certificate to speak for."

Harvey felt akin to Alice when she'd fallen into the rabbit hole. "That's not possible." he shook his head in denial.

"The one I managed to find is a fake, Harvey, and the supposed doctor who signed is a veteranian. So unless this guy was born under very abnormal circumstances, it's not the real thing." Finn insisted. "Not only that, but I continued to follow this kid around and when he left this little cafe' he was drinking at a couple of days ago, I scooped up his discarded cup in an evidence baggy to have a forensic specialist dust it for prints."

"What'd you find? Who is he?" Harvey demanded, his fingernails digging into the cushioned armrests of his chair in anticipation.

Finn gulped. "Couldn't find any fingerprints Harvey, like I said, kid's a fucking ghost."

Harvey got up and started to pace his wide office. "Finn, that's ridiculous, you know that right? Ridiculous. Mike is no ghost, and he sure as hell has fingerprints, he did _not _just drop out of the damn sky!"

"Whether he dropped outta' the sky or came out of thin air, it doesn't change the fact that Michael Ross is a drug dealer who should be in jail for aussault and purjury and hasn't even got a real name, Harvey. If I weren't a P.I. I would have arrested this guy a week ago!" Finn sighed profoundly and ran a hand through what was left of his thinning grey hair. "Do something about this guy. He's a menace to society." with that, he marched out of the room in a mad frenzied state.

**SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS **

Two days later on a Saturday night, Harvey found himself in his luxiourious condo rifling through everything Finn had managed to scoop up involving Mike and his past-which admittedly wasn't much. Several photographs of last weeks' drug deal turned to an assault. And a psuedo birth certificate, plus some forged paperwork, all proving that Michael Ross was nothing but an alias.

After their meeting a couple of days ago, Harvey had had the private detective look into Mikes' ill grandmother for him. Except for discovering that the woman had, in her earlier, healthier years, been a foster parent, nothing else really stood out. She had no record, had been a librarian in her youth, up until her late 60s', and had been married for almost thirty years to a Terry Lynch.

"Terry Lynch," Harvey read out loud, pursing his lips. "Died of Lukemia at age 49." Mike and his supposed grandmother Evelyn Lynch couldn't possibly be related, was Harveys' conclusion, after reading up on her history; Evelyn had never bared any children of her own.

There were so many questions floating around in Harveys' head at the moment. The most prominent being what to do with all this new information he'd had gathered on his associate. Would he turn him into the police? He certainly had enough concrete evidence to do so. So why was he hesitating?

Suddenly a knock came at his door and Harvey arched a brow, wondering who the hell it could be, that time of night. It was nearly two AM. He closed the folders on his lap and went over to the door, peeking through to hole to see who was visiting at this ungodly hour. He was more than surprised to see it was none other than Mike Ross.

"What the hell..." he muttered under his breathe. The kid had only done this once before, and had been drunk as hell, too. He entertained the possibility that this was a repeat of that fiasco and opened the door, putting on an agitated stance.

What he did not expect was for the nuzzle of a pistol to be pointed directly at his chest.

"Mike..." he uttered, tensing immediately, but coming up to his full height, just to hover over the younger man and gain what little power he had at the moment, back. "What are you doing?"

Mike cocked the gun, eyes empty and jaded. "Inside." he motioned, simultaneously pushing the broad shouldered man into the condo. He shut the door behind him without turning his back to Harvey.

"This is because I know about you." Harvey stated, locking his jaw.

"Sit." Mike shoved him down on the thousand thread count couch easily with a strength that surprised the Senior Partner.

"Didn't think you'd be such a coward. Using a gun, I mean." Harveys' inside voice, which sounded an awful lot like a certain red-head assistant, told him to shut his mouth now and stop taunting the man with the gun, but if he was going to die here, he sure as hell wasn't going out a snivelling thing, begging for his life, no, no, he had _pride_, damnit.

Mike gave Harvey this quirky little half-smirk, which was really something to behold, because even though his mouth was making that motion, his eyes remained placid and dead. He twirled the gun in his hand and Harvey thought _'this is my chance', _but his gut told him otherwise, and his feet stayed completely immobile. "Would you rather get shot in the face or get beaten to death with my fists? In all honesty, you would stand a better chance at survival if I pulled this trigger." he pointed the gun at the lawyers' head.

Now that Mike had spoken more than two words at a time, Harvey noted for the first time a very very faint accent, although he couldn't exactly tell from where it originated, it was so subtle.

"Shoot me then." Harveys' tone turned to steel, even though his hands were trembling and his heart was thudding out of his chest cavity.

Mike tilted his head, as if curious. "I didn't come here to kill you. I came here to warn you."

Harveys eyes flashed. "About what?"

Mike picked up the bulk of the files that lay on Harveys' desk, the ones Finn had acquired for him. He tossed them all over the floor, papers and photographs splaying everywhere. "You're playing with fire Harvey." Mike moved in front of the sitting lawyer and placed the nuzzle of the gun over the birthmark on his left eye. "You're going to get burnt. Badly." the blonde lifted Harveys' head, gun underneath his chin. "Tell your detective friend Finn not to fuck with me-I know exactly where he lives and I know what route his two little girls take every morning for school."

Harvey tensed at that. "Don't. I'll call off the investigation, just _don't _involve him."

"Good." Mike leaned in, his forehead almost touching Harveys'. "Understand this. I have eyes everywhere, so don't try anything stupid. Finn was right, you know. I am a sociopath."

Then he leaned away and shoved the pistol into his coat. He started walking away when he heard, "That's it?"

Mike turned around and arched a brow in question.

"You come into my house, threaten to shoot me, and now you're just going to _leave_?" Harvey asked, incredulous.

Mike shook his head in disbelief. "Do you want me to stay?" he really didn't understand people at all. Especially not Harvey Specter.

Harvey gaped. "No, you just, you just came in here with a _gun_." he sputtered.

"And now I am _leaving _with a gun. I don't see where this is going." Mike furrowed his brows, face stoic.

"Who are you?"

"That's not important."

Harvey glared at the blonde. "I can still send you to prison. If I die tonight, Finn will know, he'll report you before you have a chance to get to him."

Mike sighed and backtracked. "You're supposed to be smart, Harvey."

"So are you; why are you wasting your life away on drugs and petty assaults?" Harvey questioned.

"That's my business. Which I prefer you'd stay out of." Mike took two steps forward and Harvey found himself swallowing hard and inching away as much as the couch beneath him allowed. "You can turn me in if you want to, but that would be underestimating what I can do, Harvey." He took another step forward, and then did something even more unexpected than pulling a gun on the Senior Partner. He stradled Harveys' lap expertly, a knee placed on each side of Harveys' thighs on the couch.

Harvey felt his breath hitch. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry about it." Mike replied carelessly, as he unbuttoned Harveys' velvet shirt with very adept fingers. Once he had stripped Harvey of his shirt, he dug into his coat pocket and took out his pistol. Harvey immediately tensed underneath him. Mike arched a brow and threw the gun several feet away from them after taking out the amo. "If you want to stop, you can push me off without the threat of a gun leering at you." he explained to the confused lawyer.

This was his chance. Push him off, tackle him to the ground, call the police... but Harvey stayed almost deathly still as Mikes' mouth traced parts of his body he didn't think could feel so _good_. Before he knew it, his associates' hands were sliding down his back, his arched back, and slipping into his boxer shorts. "Stop." Harvey shuddered, feeling completely out of his element.

Mike bit at his collarbone and grinded up against him, one hand digging into Harveys' usually spectacularly combed hair, and whispered "Make me." but it felt too good and Harveys' hands wouldn't cooperate with him, so instead of pushing Mike away, like he'd intended, Harvey surprised himself by wrapping his arms around the younger mans lean waist and pulling him closer.

Mike was visibly caught off gaurd by this, too, Harvey could tell, but continued to ravish him on the couch, creating more and more glorious friction against their bodies, which were now pressed up entirely against one another. Harvey was hard as granite and thrusting upwards, into Mikes' jeans desperately.

Harvey kissed Mikes' neck after removing his scarf and ran his hands all over the other mans' smaller back and ass and his thighs and then he found himself on top of Mike, and on the floor, and grinding hard and fast against him, breathing raggedly. Mike clung to Harvey, his legs spread apart, as Harvey, totally undone at this point, started literally ripping his clothes off, the buttons on Mikes' thin coat never having stood a chance.

Even as he unzipped Mikes jeans, and even as his fingers caressed the top of Mikes' hard-on, Harvey never stopped to wonder how the hell they'd gotten here. He was close to it at one point, but then this amazing sound came out of Mikes' swollen pink lips, and every logical, moral thought had fled his mind instantly.

Then they were slamming one another against tables and walls and tripping over rugs and causing _so _much colateral damage, and Mikes' ass was propped up on the kitchen counter and his arms were hanging off Harveys' broad shoulders and Harveys' tongue was Indianna fucking Jones the way it was exploring the inside of Mikes' perfect mouth. At some point Harvey had been stripped of his pants and stood in the middle of his kitchen clad in just his underwear, with Mike wrapped around him in nothig but boxer briefs, a black t-shirt, and his socks of all things.

Harveys' cock was a leaking faucet, a very hard one, at that. He rubbed it against Mikes' leg on the kitchen counter like a cat in heat. Mike leaned down and captured Harveys mouth, and his hand, his so so skilled and magical hand reached into Harveys' boxers and Harveys' knees actually buckled, and he had to hold onto Mikes waist to keep from falling. "Oh God." came out broken and hitched.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Harvey was vaguely aware that something in the background was making some sort of noise, and that maybe he should check it out, could be a fire for all he knew, but Mikes' tongue and Mikes' hands and Mike, oh God.

So it was a huge dissapointment when Mikes tongue and Mikes hands and Mike, suddenly dissapered. Harvey came back to reality, to find Mike checking his phone, which had been discarded prior to their rendaevou. And without warning, Mike was getting dressed again, in a hurried manner, throwing on his scarf and pulling up his boots and and taking back his gun.

Mike had the decency to look back for a second before exiting. "See you Monday." he said, with a light chuckle, accompanied by a crooked smirk, and then he was gone, leaving Harveys' condo an unadulterated mess of papers and couch cushions and silverware and napkins, all askew on the floor.

Harveys' blood was still rushing, adreniline still pumping, his cock still completely erect, and he was left wondering what the hell had just happened. And if there'd ever be a repeat of it...

"Oh fuck." Harvey burried his head in his hands and leaned against the kitchen counter.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Monday morning came all too soon for one very exhausted Senior Partner. Harvey hadn't slept the night before, his head filled with thoughts of Mike and drugs and quite frankly, _sex_.

"Ooh, hot date?" Donna whistled at her bosses' semi-disheveled appearance.

Harvey rolled his eyes at the red head and sighed, leaning up against her desk in front of his office. "Something like that."

Donna tilted her head, her interest piqued now; it wasn't often Harvey was ever open about any conquests of his. "Oh? Was this one crazy? She try to steal from you? I told you those one night stands were no good." she chastised.

Harvey scoffed. "More like...sociopath, and definitely dangerous."

Donna arched her brows high up. "Whoa, where did you find this gal'?"

"_She _found me." Harvey grimaced.

Her eyes widened instantly. "No way, stalker? Oh, I knew this day would come."

"No, no, I mean, yes. But I kind of...stalked her first." Harvey shook his head. A day later and he'd still not made sense of that wild Saturday night.

"Okay, okay, stop there, reverse. Mama's confused. Mama doesn't like to be confused." the red head waved a finger in front of her. "So, explain, from the _beginning_."

Harvey sighed a second time. He wanted to tell someone. But he couldn't tell his confidant _everything_, at least not yet. He didn't need to get Donna involved in anything illegal. "Alright, we've been friends for a few months, I always thought she was a little, you know, soft? Needed a backbone, all that jazz. So, I'm out for lunch three weeks ago and I spot her from across the street. She looks like she's in trouble, so I go over to help, but by the time I reach her, these three guys, who were big as football players, are scurrying away, completely terrified, and the front of her shirt is covered in blood. Their blood, I'm sure."

"Okay, this chick is a bad-ass, Harvey," Donna awed.

"She is; which isn't exactly normal, because she doesn't look like like she has a single bad bone in her. I was curious. I dug around a little; I hired Finn-you know Finn, right? P.I?"

Donna rolled her eyes heavenward. "Why didn't you just ask her? Or hell, Facebook her. You know there are way easier ways of getting to know her better than by hiring a private eye." she berated.

Harvey shook his head, "You weren't there. She told me to pretend it had never happened. Of course I looked her up."

"Right right, so what did old Finny find out?"

"She's a criminal, Donna, I can't really say the specifics, but nothing she does is moral, or legal, for that matter." Harvey replied, frowning. "I'm looking over her files last Saturday night, wondering what to do, and there's a knock at my door, I open it and-"

"She was there!?" Donna interrupted, nearly falling out of her seat.

"With a damn gun." Harvey confirmed.

Donnas' eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Oh my God, are you alright? Did she shoot you? Are you hiding a huge gaping wound under those lapels, mister?!" she went into total mother-hen mode and started patting him down.

Harvey replied in the denial. "No Donna, I'm fine, don't worry."

Donna relaxed a fraction at his reassurance and then pressed on. "So, what happened?"

"She threatened to kill me if I didn't stay out of her business and uh..." Harvey paused, not really sure how to go on.

Donna grinned widely, unable to hide it. "Oh. My. God. Harvey you dog!" then she leaned in close enough to whisper, so that the early risers who were roaming about in the bullpen area didn't hear, "You slept with her, didn't you?"

"And they say men are bad. Did your mind really have to go _there _first?" Harvey taunted.

Donna furrowed her brow. "Wait, you didn't? What? I'm _always _right."

Harvey smirked. "Someone's high and mighty."

"You bet your ass. Now tell meeeee." she urged. "What on Gods' Earth happened that night?"

"We were five minutes away from the Big Bang, when her phone started going off, and she had to go." Harvey finished, with an inelegant shrug of the shoulders.

Donna cackled with laughter. "I was so right! If she hadn't had to leave, you guys would've _totally _done it."

"Don't sound so pleased with yourself."

"Well, anyway, what are you going to do? This woman is clearly dangerous. She knows where you live, she owns a gun, and has the willpower to leave the great Harvey Specter mid-coitus." Donna shook her head. "I don't know if I really want to meet her or stay the hell away from her."

Harvey had been wondering that same thing for the last twenty four hours, himself.

**SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS **

It was two hours into the work day, when Mike popped his head into Harveys' office, unannounced. "Knock knock, come in? Awesome. I found a loophole in the bonds case I think might totally annihilate the opposing side." he sauntered in and handed Harvey what he'd found on their current case.

Harvey just stared at the associate. The associate who-was he shitting him?-was actually going to pretend _nothing _had happened? Harvey frowned deeply.

Mike stared back, face going blank. "We can't fuck here, if that's what you're thinking. Even sociopaths have common sense. Glass walls, see-through, you catch my drift here, right?"

Harvey shook his head quickly. "No, Mike, dammit that wasn't what I was thinking about at all." he denied fervently except that he was half lying, to both himself and the younger man. Of course he was thinking about Mikes' perfect ass up on his kitchen counter and-oh God, _not here, not here_, he told himself harshly. "You can't expect me to forget the fact that you threatened to shoot me just two days ago." he said incredulously.

"I did, didn't I?" Mike sat down. "I told you, though, that I'm not going to, so you can relax."

"No, no, I can't." Harvey persisted. "Mike, you deal coke, and God knows what else! You assaulted some guy on a pier last week, _and _you stole some random guys' car, to boot."

"I was only borrowing it. I gave it back before he noticed it was gone." Mike said, with a flippant shrug.

"That doesn't excuse what you did." Harvey felt like he was talking to an insolent child, one who refused to understand a single word coming out of his mouth.

"Didn't say it did." Mike started going over the bonds case once more, an elbow propped up against Harveys' desk. He felt Harveys' intense gaze burning holes through the side of his head as he read.

Harvey shook his head and sighed profoundly. "Me neither." he admitted. "I should be turning you in to the police right now." he said, almost to himself, really, as he ran his hands through the thick locks of his hair exasperatedly.

Mike stood and handed Harvey back the files to the bonds case. "I'm coming over tonight so don't bother making plans." then, swiftly, he left the room.

Harvey wanted to slap himself. Why was he suddenly so excited?

**SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS**

Mike had been asexual for, well, forever. When he'd hit puberty and other boys his age were experiencing random boners and masturbation and raging hormones for the first time, Mike had been busy with more important things. He wasn't at all concerned about the fact that Harvey and he were both males, and as he'd never actually been interested in either sex before, he wasn't about to panic about his orientation, now, in his twenties.

He'd had sex before. Not out of want or need, but because what's-her-name had suggested it, when they'd found themselves trapped in an incredibly small closet, incognito from several large men with weapons and anger management issues. He'd been maybe seventeen, Mike guessed, and she had been a couple of years older, but charmed by his callousness none the less. It started with a peck of the lips, initiated solely by-he couldn't for the life of him remember the girls' name-and then she'd gotten handsy. Mike had been uncomfortable, at best, he remembered. His jaw ached from making out, her saliva was absolutely everywhere, her hands fumbling in his pants did only so much to excite his lower half, and ultimately, he realized how bored he was.

While a tedious and laborious act, he'd attempted it thrice more afterward, twice with different women, once with a man-an undercover cop, to be specific-and had gotten pretty much the same result-sex just didn't hold his interest. Too many bodily fluids and too much heat, and even his climax had only really given him release, not the pleasure he'd read about in romance novels.

Initially, Mike had straddled the Senior Partners' lap in jest, just to mess with him. It had come as a shock when his hands had moved almost on their own accord, unbuttoning the mans' sleep wear. For the first time, in a long time, not entirely sure what the hell he was doing, Mike had decided to let Harvey decide. He'd tossed his firearm aside and given him a choice-which really, hadn't been much of a choice. Mike had been sure that at any second, he'd get pushed away, maybe even punched.

When instead, he felt Harveys' strong arms reach around him and pull him in closer, he'd wanted to run. Losing control and all inhibition was not what Michael Ross did-especially not for something as trivial as sex.

Mike picked Harveys' lock and let himself in, his footsteps naturally light against the floorboards. He found Harvey fixing up in his bathroom, door ajar, looking intently into the mirror, as if it had all the worlds' answers in store for him alone.

"Boo." Harvey, startled, practically cut himself with the tip of his blade, while shaving.

"Shit, Mike." he swiveled around, feeling slightly exposed in just his underwear, mid-shave. He washed off the aftermath and glared at the mirror, where Mikes' reflection could be seen, as the younger man leaned against the doorway. "It's called knocking, or calling ahead of time, for that matter." he complained. "How did you even get in?"

Mike shrugged. "I bought over the bonds files."

Harvey started a second time, this time less violently. "What?" then he paused, "Oh, yeah, bonds case." he nodded, as if it had slipped his mind.

The associate had to suppress the faint urge to laugh. Harvey had naturally been expecting a repeat of last Saturday night-or a continuation, same thing, really. Mike rolled his eyes, as he made his way to the living room and opened the case files, going over what they had to present in the next two days, in court.

Harvey came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, sporting pajama pants and a light grey v-neck.

"I ordered pizza. Put it on your credit card." Mike mentioned casually, half an hour later, when the doorbell rang and he got a questioning glance from the lawyer on the couch.

Harvey was close to protesting when he realized he was kind of hungry anyway.

**SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS SUITS **

"Drugs," Harvey said, out of thin air. "You still..." he left the question hanging thick in the air between them as they ate, twenty minutes later.

Mike continued to chew on his slice for a minute more before replying, in his subtle accent, "I don't snort my own merchandise, if that's what you're implying."

"You won't tell me your real name?" Harvey wondered out-loud not at all surprised when his only response came in the form of silence, as Mike continued to eat, simultaneously rifling through their bonds case files. "How old are you, then?" He tried.

"I'm legal." the associate said vaguely, not looking up.

"Do you deal regularly?" he continued to interrogate, his tone sharper.

Mike blinked, "That's none of your concern."

"The hell it isn't." Harvey glared at the younger man and stood to his full height. "Mike, you're my associate, that means that I am resp-"

"Why haven't you fired me yet?" the blonde interrupted abruptly, his head tilted, brow raised.

"Why...because," Harvey paused. "You're-you threatened to kill me." he gulped, could almost feel the cold butt of the gun pressed against his head again.

"I wouldn't shoot you for firing me, Harvey." Mike shrugged eloquently. "I can be reasonable. If I were in your position, I would have fired me several days ago."

There was a pregnant pause; silence and the aroma of cheese consumed the condos' luxurious kitchen.

"I don't know." Harvey finally uttered, feeling very unlike his usual self around this Mike. This Mike who wasn't his naive, sometimes ditsy employee, but a stranger, sitting atop his kitchen counter. A stranger he'd nearly had sex with two days ago, on that very kitchen counter...

It was only a little past midnight when Mike stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders for good measure, and said, "It's late, I'm going home now, unless you want to fuc-" the last word was lost in Harveys passionate kiss.

His breathe was hot against Mikes' neck, his hands fumbling, his heart beating a mile a minute.

Mike half smiled. "It's strapped to my leg, Harvey." he said, very calmly.

"What?" Harvey paused in his endeavours and looked up.

"My gun. It's what you are looking for, yes?" Mike bent over and pulled his left pant leg up, revealing his weapon.

Harvey stared at his associate, open-mouthed.

"You were patting me down, Harvey." Mike explained easily.

Harvey looked like a fish out of water. He kept opening and closing his mouth to say something, but found that for the first time in his life, words failed him completely.

The blonde took the gun from the holster strapped to his calf and for a second time in the span of three days, aimed it at the senior partners forehead. "Fire me or ignore you ever found out about me, but don't fuck me over, because it will be the last thing you do." Mike stood to his full height, which somehow made him seem so much taller at that moment, and in a single, fluid motion, had Harvey pinned to the wall, hard, the nuzzle pressed against his temple. "You've been good to me, Harvey. So I will give you one last chance. What will it be?"

What startled Harvey was not the gun, not the fact that it was turned towards him, and certainly not the fact that he had at least twenty pounds of muscle on the kid holding him against his will. What startled him the most were Mikes' eyes. Those cold, calculating, and disturbingly dead eyes.

He knew then that Mike could shoot him. _Would _shoot him without any remorse, and leave him there in his condo to die, without any hesitance. Harveys' heart was beating so wildly inside of his chest that he could swear he was having a heart attack.

"I can't ignore what I've learned, Mike." he didn't even realize it was him who'd uttered those words until he saw Mike shrug his shoulders in a subtle manner and easily cock the gun. "Come live with me."

At this, even Mike started. "My English has become pretty spot on in the last two years, but even I'm not sure I understand what you just said."

Harvey began to speak rapidly all of a sudden. "That's why you sell drugs right? Because of money. It's why everyone does. You live in that shit hole in that shitty neighborhood because you can't afford much else having to pay those expensive bills at the hospital for your grandmother, right? Right? She is your grandmother, right? Or did you lie about that too?" It was only when Mike stepped back and gave him some room that Harvey breathed again.

"Money is not a concern, Harvey." the blonde sighed and gracefully holstered his weapon. "I will see you at the office tomorrow." and then he left.

"Just like that." Harveys' knees gave out from under him and he collapsed on the floor, sweaty and shaking and terrified and so utterly confused.


End file.
